“Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. “ –Rachel Carson
I was excited about the Redwoods of California. Several travelers had shared that their favorite National Park was the Redwoods, hands down. That surprised me considering the crazy beauty of the Olympic or the plethora of wildlife in Yellowstone. People would just nod and say, ‘It’s something about those trees.’’
We arrived in Northern California via Hwy 199. One moment we were driving a winding switchback road adjacent to the Smith River, the next we were plunged into a dark forest of giant trees that blotted out all light, creating a shadowy verdant landscape of soft silence. We had arrived in Jedediah Smith Redwoods Forest, the first of three tracts of Giant Redwoods on the California Coast. The two lane blacktop wound its way through the Redwoods, some of the gargantuan trunks encroaching on the road and marked with bright reflector signs so as not to plow right into them. We both got very quiet. Time and again during our stay here, we would find ourselves falling silent in reverence for the space and the giant trees that dwarfed us. The cool thing here, as opposed to the champion trees scattered throughout the Olympics, were the massiveness of the groves.
The Coastal Redwood or California Redwood is the common name for the Sequoia Sempervirens, sole living species of the genus Sequoia in the cypress family. They are considered endangered and can range in height from 100 to 367 feet. The Redwood National Park is home to the tallest trees on earth. Think about that. Some live up to 2000 years old. These ancient and towering redwood groves have the feeling of a holy temple. One walks in the presence of something greater. It’s always startling when you find yourself in the presence of something unfathomable, especially when it’s a natural phenomenon. We humans tend to think we are the center of the universe and when we experience a moment of insignificance, the realization that we are such a small part in the unfolding history of our world unsettles us, but it does something else too. Surprisingly, the knowledge that there are greater things then our human concerns illuminates larger truths about humanity, our responsibility to care for the earth and our place in the continuum of time.
We stayed that night and the next few in the Crescent City KOA, scoring a great site in the back portion of the campground under some towering redwoods. We were the only one back there so it was eerie and hushed, just what we imagined and hoped for. The only problem was we hadn’t had time to resupply our dinner makings so we had to go out to Crescent City in search of a meal. Just ten minutes down the road, the city is a very strange place. Ideally situated on the coast right on the Pacific with a working fishing pier, the town seems desolate and struggling. We managed to find a place serving fresh fish but it was empty and the vibe was depressing.
The next morning, we woke early, we wanted to catch the sunrise in what we heard was a beautiful trail through the adjacent forest. How do I describe this? The drive through this dense forest, the rays of sunlight casting blinding beams of white rays through the dissipating fog created a sanctuary of transcendent beauty. A Vertical Eden, as Richard Preston calls this part of the world in his book Wild Trees. It stopped me in my tracks. I was so grateful and speechless, it was all I could do to take photos and thenI just stood there with my mouth open. I watched the light shift and change,, illuminating dripping moss, shafts of brilliant light producing gradations of light and shadow. It wasn’t overwhelming or heart-pounding. It was incredibly peaceful. I’ll never forget the feelings I had that day of being outside my body, my life, and experiencing a deeper, richer reality.
We took a long hike that day on the Boy Scout Trail and immersed ourselves in a day among the big trees. Emerging into the bright California sunshine after a day in the dark woods was like a rebirth. We took some time to explore the coast. It was surprising accessible, and the homes fronting the shore were modest and had been here for many years. I was taken aback at the small bungalows with such impressive frontage on the Pacific, coming from Michigan where property on the water is unaffordable for most folks, small cottages being replaced by gargantuan structures. A pit stop in the Prairie Creek Redwoods afforded us a close encounter with a herd of elk numbering at least 30. They were grazing in a field next to the parking lot for the trailhead we were angling for. After waiting awhile for them to disperse, we took our chances and tiptoed gingerly past them into the dark and welcoming corridors of the redwood forest.
The next few days were spent meandering down the coast with quick stops in Arcata(a college/hippy town) where we had lunch at a terrific vegan café, and Eureka, with its vintage Victorian architecture and historic downtown. We stayed at a campground in Benbow, off the coast a bit. What a find! The historic BenBow Inn was a short walk under HWY 101. We set up camp and took a 5 min stroll over in the dark to a splendid haven of light and conviviality. We took seats at the bar and passed a social evening chatting up the bartender and the few locals hanging out. A little sanctum of civility, we both agreed that campgrounds adjacent to cool historic inns serving great cocktails and food were pretty much perfect.
We ended our time in this magnificent place with a long drive down the Avenue of Trees, stopping here and there to drink in the last of the magic and mystery. It’s clear why so many had named the Redwoods as their favorite National Park. It’s something about the trees.